


Tequila Is Never A Good Idea (Until It's A Great Idea)

by JenTheSweetie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Decisions, M/M, also some good decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenTheSweetie/pseuds/JenTheSweetie
Summary: It happened, Sherlock would later point out, because John was running late.(“No,” John said, “it happened because you’re a bloody lightweight and - ”)





	Tequila Is Never A Good Idea (Until It's A Great Idea)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Snapjack for the prompt that led to this minific, and the nonstop cheerleading when I'm stuck. Sorry about that night I got you almost as drunk as Sherlock in this fic :D <3

It happened, Sherlock would later point out, because John was running late.

-

(“No,” John said, “it happened because you’re a bloody lightweight and - ”)

-

“John’s running late,” Sherlock said.  “It’s because of something boring, I didn’t bother listening.”  

“Greg too, I think,” Molly said.  “Shall we have a drink while we wait?”

“If we must,” Sherlock said.

-

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.  “Tequila shots are half off for another fifteen minutes.”

“Absolutely not,” Sherlock said.  “There is _no_  way I’m drinking - ”

“Two, please,” Molly said.

-

“God, that was disgusting,” Molly said.  “Why did we _do_  that?”

“Because you liked the way the bartender smiled at you,” Sherlock said.

“I did not!” Molly said hotly.  “That is _not_  why - they were _half off_  - ”

“Not too bad, were they?” the bartender said.

“Delicious,” Molly said, smiling.  

“Borderline undrinkable,” Sherlock said.

The bartender gave Sherlock the puzzled smile of normal people.  “What else can I get you?”

“Um,” Molly said, “what do you recommend?”

-

“Another round!” Sherlock said, slamming a hand on the bar.

“Are they still half off?” Molly asked.

“Erm, no,” the bartender said, “no, that was only the first two rounds, the last two haven’t been - ”

“Another round!” Sherlock repeated.

“No need to shout, mate,” the bartender said, “I’m standing right here.”

“Oh, right,” Sherlock said.  

“It’s all right,” Molly said, patting him on the arm.  “It’s just the sort of thing you want to shout.”

“Yes, _exactly!_ ” Sherlock said.

-

“So,” Molly said, “what’s new with you?  I feel like I haven’t talked to you lately and - ”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Sherlock said quickly.

Molly blinked.  “Er.  I never said you were.”

“Oh,” Sherlock said.  “Of course.  Why would you think I was hiding something?  I’m not hiding anything.  I don’t _hide things_.”

“What are you hiding?” Molly said eagerly.

“Nothing!” Sherlock said.  “I just said that, weren’t you listening?”

“I was, actually.”  Molly leaned across the bar.  “Two more shots of tequila, please.”

-

“Is it about a case?”

“No.”

“Is it about Rosie?”

“Why would I hide something about Rosie?  Rosie’s _perfect_ , there’s nothing to hide about _Rosie_.”

“Is it about your brother?”

“Ugh, no.”

“Is it about John?”

Sherlock opened his mouth, then closed it.

Molly’s eyes lit up.  “Is it about _you_  and John?”

Sherlock suddenly became very interested in the woman over Molly’s shoulder who was embezzling from her husband’s family business.  

“Sherlock!” Molly smacked him on the arm.  “Are you and John - ”

“She spends it all on her dog!” Sherlock burst out.  “Sorry.  Yes.  I mean.  No!  No, of course we’re not - ”

“Oh, my god!” Molly squealed.  

“Oh, my god,” Sherlock said.

-

“Sorry I’m late,” Greg said.  “What have you two been - are all these yours?”

“All what?” Sherlock said.

“The glasses.”  Greg picked one up and sniffed it.  “Have you been drinking tequila?” 

“The shining star of the Metropolitan Police Service, ladies and gentleman,” Sherlock said. 

“Ha bloody ha,” Greg said.  “Yeah, can I get a gin and tonic?”

-

“There he is,” Greg said, raising a hand as John wove through the crowd.  “C’mon, mate, let’s get a table, these two are pissed.”

“Hello, John!” Molly said, delighted.

“Hello,” John said.  “Are you really drunk?”

“We are really drunk,” Molly said seriously.

“What?  Oh, yes,” Sherlock said.  “There were tequila - type - things.”

“Will wonders never cease,” John said.

-

“Soooooo,” Molly said once they’d ordered enough tacos to feed a small country, “how are you, John?”

“I’m fine,” John said.  “How are you, Molly?”

Sherlock waved frantically at him.   _SHE KNOWS_ , he mouthed. 

“Me?  Oh, I’m _wonderful_ ,” Molly said, smiling broadly.  “But we’re talking about _you_.”

“Are we?” John said.   _WHAT?_  he mouthed to Sherlock.

“Of course!” Molly said.  “Anything new going on?”

“Er,” John said, “no, not really.”

“Oh?” Molly said.  “Nothing at all?”

_SHE KNOWS_.

John frowned.   “Not that I can think of.”

“Funny,” Molly said, “because, you know, you look really _relaxed_  to me.”

“Relaxed?” Greg said, utterly nonplussed.  

“What do you mean?” John said.

Sherlock was starting to get annoyed at John’s lack of lip reading skills.  Oh!  He’d tap it out in morse code on the table.  Short short short, short short short short, short - 

“Sherlock, what are you doing?” John said.  

“I’m trying to tell you she knows I’m in love with you!” Sherlock yelled.

The Taco Tuesday crowd went very, very quiet.  

“She knows you’re - _what_?” John said faintly.  

Molly clapped a hand over her mouth in delight.  Greg blinked like an owl who’d just been hit by a truck. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Sherlock said.

-

“You’re angry with me,” Sherlock said without lifting his head from the toilet.  

“Nope,” John said, leaning against the doorframe.  

“You are,” Sherlock argued.  “I can _see_  it.”

“Can you.”  

“You’re angry because I got sick in the cab.”

“No,” John said.  “I’m not.”

“You’re angry because you didn’t get any tacos.”

“Sherlock.”

“You’re angry because I’m... not good enough at morse code?” Sherlock said.  

John pinched the bridge of his nose.  “You’re fine at morse code.”

“Then _what_?” Sherlock said miserably.  

“I’m angry because because the first time you told me you loved me you _yelled_  it at me in a _crowded Mexican restaurant_ ,” John said.

“Oh,” Sherlock said.  “Was that the first time I - ”

“Yes.”

“And that’s a big deal because - ”

“It just is.”

“Ah.”

Sherlock swallowed.  The tequila seemed to have completed its encore.  “I thought I’d said it before.”

“What?” 

“The thing I said,” Sherlock said.  “I _assumed_  I’d said it.  I’ve been thinking it for years, so it seemed like I must have said it.  Before now.  When I yelled it.”

John stared at him.

“So,” Sherlock said.  “Right.”

John crossed the bathroom and slid down the wall until he was face to face with Sherlock.  “Years.”

“Of course,” Sherlock said.

“Jesus, Sherlock.”

“So, to clarify,” Sherlock said, “was it the _yelling_  that was a problem, or the fact that other people were around, or - ”

“I love you too,” John said.  

“Oh,” Sherlock said.  “All right.”

“Even though I wish you’d waited to tell me until you weren’t off your tits,” John said.

“That’s reasonable,” Sherlock said.

They looked at each other.  Sherlock would have liked to kiss John right then, but his mouth felt a bit like it had grown a furry coat in preparation for winter.

“I really would like some tacos,” Sherlock said.  

“Yeah, all right,” John said.


End file.
